Page 98 of How to Kill Your Rival

‘I’m okay.’

‘For now. I’ll whup your arse if you go running into danger like that again.’

She lifts a hand and gently touches my cheek, relief and anticipation on her face.

‘Keep talking like that, and you’ll have me barging in front of the next bus just to make you put your money where your mouth is.’

‘Come on. Let’s go get Fraser.’

I take one last look at the empty chair with the cut cable tie on the floor.

We’re coming, Fraser.

31

ELIZA

The city falls away behind us as we head south, the lights glittering in the mirror like a distant fairy town. We follow the motorway for a while before heading off the beaten track. My muscles are stiffening, and I can’t help but wonder if word is getting back to the Stewarts about our journey through their territory.

The warehouse sits at the end of a farm track, surrounded by bushes. A low, long building, newer than the others we’ve been to.

Two cars outside.

We sit in the dark at the top of the track with our lights off and take stock of the building. It’s impossible to tell what’s going on inside. I clock that they’ve left a low window open near the rear. That’ll do.

It takes a few minutes to find a spot behind a series of bushes where the car is partially concealed, but it’s the best we can do with the dearth of landscaping available.

We make our way silently down to the window, and James squeezes my hand tightly before helping me through it.

It’s a bathroom. Unoccupied at least.

I shush James as he flops in through the window, grasping his shoulder.

The door is open, revealing another room where two of them sit at a rickety table with cards on it, while another leans against a pallet nearby. They are eating chips from paper bags without a care in the world. There’s no indication that they are expecting us.

And there, cable-tied beyond them, is Fraser.

He’s got one boot missing and a little dried blood on his lip, but otherwise looks nonchalant about the whole affair.

Cheeky fuck.

Must be driving them crazy.

I emerge from the bathroom and slide along the wall, James following behind. The men aren’t facing us, but Fraser is.

Fraser’s blue eyes flick up to mine, and I put my fingers to my lips.

His expression says, About bloody time.

I take the standing man first with a slash of my knife across his throat. The two at the table look over at me and their dying mate, which allows James to cock the gun and put a bullet through one of their heads.

The last one fumbles at his waistband, but he sees his own brains splatter across the table before he’s even unholstered.

James leans against the wall with his hand pressed to his shoulder; the kickback from the gun must have aggravated it.

‘James—’

‘Go,’ he says, waving me off.